Durngeons n’ Durgons – Grant Swalwell

When my DND group first started, I felt intimidated at the thought of an RPG not rendered electronically, but it turns out a pen and paper RPG is my favorite thing. I’m playing with relatively mature people, the usual bottleneck in a good DND game. My dungeon master is a greasy rockstar, his girlfriend is a crazy sorceress, his roommate is a thief/mage, our buddy is a ranger, and I am a warrior cleric. In the dungeon master’s homegrown setting the medieval esque kingdom has fallen to daemonic invasion, our party fleeing as refugees shipwrecked onto a mysterious island, and we awoke with mysterious wounds on our hands. The sky and the earth were strange, still with a red tint, craggy trees extended far as the eye could see. We made our way through the forest, an old man with no arms spoke to us in riddles, we were debased. Days go by before we stumble upon a wagon in the dead of night, pulled by a sleeping bear. We require food and shelter, so as my party deliberated how to rob or murder these people, I walked up and knocked on the wagon, a panicked clattering later a dwarf hollered ‘GET AWAY FROM ME, WAGON.’Failing my diplomacy check, the sorceress charms the dwarf who gives us food and tells us where we are, vaguely. She is allowed to sleep in the tent, the rest of us make camp, my party wants to rob the dwarves, being a holy man, I protest, but for now we need rest.

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